It's all about timing, this life
by louella
Summary: Let's be honest, not much in the way of plot here, just the early morning musings of our A2A hero and heroine. Mature content.


**It's all about timing, this life**

Alex woke at 6.00 am, alone. A glance at the clock by her bedside showed she wouldn't be troubled by her alarm for another 45 minutes. She rolled onto her back, knowing sleep was unlikely to return but still feeling languorous and lacking the energy to rouse herself from her bed. She closed her eyes and willed her body to relax and her mind to empty. The former was fairly straightforward but the latter was a different matter altogether.

She sighed. Bloody Gene bloody Hunt. She couldn't stop herself recalling their most recent argument, which had taken place only last night in Luigi's. She couldn't even remember what it had been about this time round. Sometimes it felt that they didn't need a reason to kick off with each other, the tension between them seemed to demand frequent relief through a good shouting match.

Last night, they'd ended up practically nose to nose, her fingers jabbing angrily into his chest as she tried to win her argument, his hands thumping down on the table to emphasise whatever Neanderthal point he was trying to make at her expense. Like so many others, the row had finished up in a draw, neither able to land the killer blow in their discussion. They had glared at each other in silence for a beat, their breathing heavy and their hearts rates accelerated, until Alex had looked away, muttering "Whatever," under her breath.

Alex had turned her back on him and joined Chris and Shaz's conversation, but despite her dismissive gesture she had been surprised when he had pushed away from the table, said a gruff goodbye to his colleagues and left without looking at her again. She had felt strangely bereft at his departure and hadn't waited much longer before making her own excuses and heading upstairs, alone.

Alex lay cocooned within her satin sheets, feeling warm and soft and languid. She smiled to herself as she remembered the glint in Gene's eye as they had argued with each other across the table. He was at his most passionate and vibrant when he was sparring with her. She was captivated by the spark in his eyes, the force of his emotions, his sheer physicality when he thought he was winning an argument. She had felt the energy emanating from him as he tried to make his points and she had responded in kind, her cheeks flushing and pulse racing as she returned his fury with interest.

Alex sighed. There was no point denying it anymore, at least not to herself. She never felt more at home in 1981 than when she was exchanging verbal punches with Gene Hunt. He made her feel alive and anchored in this mysterious present. He compelled her with the force of his personality and her body responded to his as if made for it.

He was a puzzle to her. She sensed he was keeping his emotions about her on a tight rein and she wasn't sure why. She knew from their arguments that hot, red blood flowed through his veins. She smiled to herself as she acknowledged that there was nothing she would like more right now than for Gene to turn his passion in a more interesting direction – in her direction.

A familiar wave of heat washed slowly over Alex's body. She ran a hand lazily down her torso, tracing the curve of her breast, the flatness of her stomach, and then lower. Closing her eyes, a gentle smile tugged on her lips she imagined she was no longer alone but was instead sharing her bed with a very real Gene Hunt.

XXXXX

A couple of miles across the city, Gene Hunt reluctantly opened his eyes. He was in bed, alone. The clock at his bedside showed it was 6.00 am. Another hour before he had to get up, two or three before he would see Bolly again at the office. He groaned. He'd been awake less than ten seconds and already she was on his mind.

He thought back to last night and the latest in a long line of arguments with that bloody woman. It had been about something and nothing, as usual, but neither of them seemed able to back down once they started. He'd never known a woman as pig-headed and stubborn than Bolly when she'd got an idea in her head and a glass in her hand. She drove him up the wall with her psycho-babble bollocks, all delivered in that gilt-edged public school accent. Last night had been the final straw. She'd turned away from him at the end of their row and he'd just about had enough. He'd left before he'd done anything stupid. Anything he'd regret.

And now here he was again, lying alone again, thinking about her again. About how her eyes fired sparks when she was trading insults with him. How her breasts rose and fell as she indignantly defended her corner. How her skin flushed deep when her hackles rose under his onslaught. To him, she never looked more beautiful than at the height of one of their arguments.

He was a mess. He wanted her, there was no doubt about that, but he knew she was way out of his league. He might be able to persuade her to play with a bit of rough for a while but in his heart he knew she'd only be biding her time until she could leave and get back to her daughter. He didn't want his emotions to get trampled in her dash to the exit. Which meant, despite all temptation, that he could look but not touch.

A great plan in theory but it was getting more and more difficult to carry out in practice, especially at moments like this when his body was telling him to take whatever it needed from her and damn the consequences.

This was all new to him. She was the first thing he thought of when he woke in the morning, the last thing before turning out the light and a sizeable chunk of the hours in between. He'd been fond enough of his wife when they'd married but he'd never felt such an all-consuming obsession for her, or any woman since, as he did for Alex. He really didn't know how to handle it. He was usually so confident and brash but one glance from her could send him to pieces. Of course, he'd tried in his clumsy way to reach out to her but she'd clearly if gently brushed him off. So now he was left to wonder how to salvage some self-respect from this whole debacle and still maintain a working relationship with Bolly.

Gene let out a terse laugh. The only way he was going to stop thinking impure thoughts about Bolly was if she had a body transplant. He could picture her now, long legs in sprayed-on denim, bra straps peeking out on her shoulders and clingy tops that caressed and draped over every curve. And then there was that look on her face. He knew that most of his team thought she was cold and haughty but he could see through that; he would bet his house that when she let the barriers down she would be hot and passionate and very probably filthy.

Gene had never felt such internal conflict. He wanted her so much it hurt yet he felt that he had to resist. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to control his longings, so haunted was he by his desire for her. His admiration for her body was rapidly being equalled by his respect for her as a person, a combination that left him reeling.

Closing his eyes, he thought back to that doodle he'd drawn of him taking Bolly over his desk. The image brought forward evidence of his desires on his own body, as he lay strong and hard beneath the sheets. He considered his usual solution for working off his frustrations about his DI – a cold shower and a hot coffee – but neither held much appeal. Instead, allowed himself to submit to his fantasies and imagined he and Bolly bringing that doodle to life.

XXXXX

Across town, Alex was quickly succumbing to her own desires. She pictured Gene coming towards her, lifting her into his arms and carrying her easily to her bed. He planted kiss upon hot kiss on her body, first plundering her mouth then moving slowly along the column of her neck, across her collar bone and down towards her breasts. He took one willing peak into his mouth and plucked the other with the fingers of his hand, drawing gasps of desire from her. She moved restlessly, wanting both to prolong the sensations but also to increase her fulfilment. Her imaginary Gene raised his head and left a trail of molten kisses across her ribcage and abdomen, pausing briefly to whirl his tongue around the dimple of her belly button, before moving lower to her heat-filled centre.

Alex moaned in pleasure as she imagined Gene sucking gently on the tender skin at the inside of her thigh. She moved her own hands in an echo of her imagination. In her mind's eye, Gene settled himself between her parted legs and breathed softly across her skin. He leaned closer and ran his tongue across the sensitive folds at the juncture of her thighs, seeking and finding the nub of her pleasure. She moaned as she felt a hand smooth its way down her thigh to join his mouth, a finger slipping inside her and working back and forth in time with the movements of his tongue.

She knew she was close but before she hit her peak she forced herself to hold back. In her vivid imagination, Gene's kisses moved gradually back up her body, blazing a trail across her belly, her breasts and her earlobes until he was poised above her, looking deeply into her eyes. She sighed as she imagined him staring at her with eyes darkened by desire. "Gene," she whispered brokenly. "Now. Please."

XXXXX

She looked up at him with desire in her eyes. "Gene," she cried. "Now. Please." In his imagination, Alex pleaded with him to take her. She was clinging to him, kissing him passionately as they stood together in his office. She was offering herself to him completely, allowing him access to every inch of her glorious, womanly body, and he was lost. He eased her backwards until her behind reached his desk, and he lifted her so she was sitting on the edge. Her skirt rose higher as her thighs wrapped around him, locking him into her intimate embrace.

Gene's imagination ran wild. His fantasy self reached down to tear Alex's shirt from her shoulders, pushing the fabric down her arms and leaving her dressed only in a black lace bra, skirt pushed round her waist and tiny black knickers. Gene let out a low growl of approval. He reached out to trace the outline of her breasts at the point where her flesh met the fabric of her bra. Her skin felt silken beneath his fingers and leaned down to place his mouth where his hands had been. He reached behind her to unfasten her bra and eased it gently from her shoulders, leaving her revealed to his gaze. In his imagination her body was perfect. Who was he kidding? Her body was bloody perfect in real life.

Gene's arousal was reaching its peak. In his fantasy he pulled Alex from the desk, turned her round and pulled her knickers aside. She bent slightly, resting her hands on the desk, and looked round at him hungrily. "Now. Please."

XXXXX

Separately, Alex and Gene each imagined the moment when he entered her. Alex's eyes flickered closed in sensual delight as she pictured a smooth, tender coupling, feeling completed by Gene's possession. Gene shuddered in pleasure as he imagined thrusting fast and hard into Alex's willing body, seeking the relief that it seemed only she could offer him.

They reached their peak together. As her climax hit, Alex cried Gene's name, lost in the pleasure of her fantasy. Gene muttered, "Bolly, God Bolly," as he passed his own point of no return.

In their lonely beds, Alex and Gene fell onto their backs, physically sated but emotionally torn.

As Alex's heart rate returned to normal she smiled to herself, surprised by the intensity of her Gene-inspired fantasy. Was her subconscious was trying to tell her something? She laughed aloud when she remembered that Gene Hunt was entirely a construct of her subconscious mind in the first place. Rolling comfortably onto her stomach, she wondered whether Gene would be as good in real life as she had imagined him. She was beginning to hope she'd get the chance to find out.

Gene's pulse slowed gradually. He rolled onto his front, groaning unhappily into his pillow as he thought about what he'd just done. He felt sullied, dirtied by his fantasy, as if he should have better controlled his emotions and kept a lid on his feelings for Alex. She didn't deserve to have some oaf imagining such indignities about her. She was special, exceptional, and way, way too choosy to have anything to do with him. He cursed and promised himself that in future he'd keep his attraction to her in check. She need never know how he felt about her. From now on, they'd be nothing more to each other than colleagues. It was the only way.


End file.
